The Fan
by quinnley1
Summary: 3rd installment of my Daria series, sequel to The Pole. Reunited don't feel so good. Daria, all grow'ed up, has made some questionable choices in her life. What happens when her past comes back to haunt Trent now that he's finally going strong? Trent POV
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters within this story are the property of their copyright holders. I am not making any money from this story, and no infringement is intended.

_Author's Note: Ok people, I'm doing this. Some of you have been waiting a LONG Mother-effing time for this story. I've been waffling about if I even want to finish it. If you followed along with my other Daria stories you know that I had lost all my work for this story at some point, and then I lost my muse. I've been writing a Buffy-based story for over a year now, but this week I've had this niggling desire to work on this story again. Since I'm almost done with the Buffy story, I figured I would go ahead and post this first chapter of this story to force myself to start working on it again. I'm still mostly focused on the last few chapters of Buffy, so the updates for this story will have a lot of time between them, but I WILL finish it._

_This is the last in my Daria Series. It is the sequel to my stories "The Request" and "The Pole". I think it is possible for this story to be read as a stand-alone if you just go with everything in it, but the other two stories have a lot of background info in them. This story is going to be very different from the first two, which were written from Daria's POV mostly with a chapter here and there from Trent's POV. This one is almost completely Trent, with a few chapters from other character's POVs and a flashback or two._

_WARNING: Adult themes, cursing, mentions of alcohol, drugs, and sex will be sprinkled throughout. If you are not 18 or object to such subject matter, kindly take your leave._

**The Fan**

**Been a Long Time**

**December 10th, 2012, 9:30 PM**

_God, its days like today that make it hard to stay sober._

Why did today tempt me into an aching need to go running for the nearest drug dealer I could find? Well, it started out with the toilet on the tour bus backing up at 4:30 AM this morning. That was pleasant. Around 8:00 AM I found out that my sponsor in Narcotics Anonymous relapsed and had nearly OD'ed. Then Nick spent most of the ride yelling into a cell phone at his kid for some stunt he pulled at his school. It apparently included the details of a suspension, a $5,000 charge on Nick's credit card, and pudding. After that we found out the new guy who was driving the equipment truck got lost from our jaunt to San Francisco from Portland, so when we finally got to the venue we couldn't set up, making the crowd pissed during the wait. But the most recent problem in a long line of problems today? Crappy security at the stadium, and crappy guardrails, which led to a mass bum-rush to the stage from the agitated crowd and some fans got smooshed.

_Lawsuits, great. Just what we need right now on top of the fact that our most recent album sucks._

Thankfully, no one died or had injuries serious enough to be taken to the hospital from what I'd heard so far. After yelling at our manager to get on damage control and verbally bitch-slapping the guys in charge at the stadium, I told Nick, Max, and Jesse that we better go do a meet-and-greet with the injured fans and hope that they didn't press charges.

We didn't have a giant following, we were nowhere near as big as bands like Metallica, but the fans we had were fiercely loyal and we tried to treat them well to show our appreciation. Well, most of them were loyal anyway. They were until the third "professional" album came out. That one was the first time I'd written all by myself in a long while, and it split our fans down the middle on if they liked it or not. This fourth album that had come out recently, and we were touring to promote right now, was even more divisive. None of the songs made it to the top 100 of any chart in any country. Sales were horrible, and horribly depressing.

_Still, can't really complain I guess. We had a modest success with the first album, and the second one stayed in the top fifty lists for forty-six weeks. Never made it to number one though ... but we still got big enough to headline our own tour and quit our day jobs. Oh wait, probably supposed to get those first before you can quit them …_

We finally got to the room with the injured fans and began talking to each of them one at a time and autographing things for them as the EMTs checked them out. Eventually, we made it to the last kid in the group, and he really caught my attention. He was so young, close to 5 years old maybe, and he didn't appear to have any parents with him. His inky black hair was cut into one of those faux-hawks I see all the time, but I noticed that one side of his head had been buzzed into some sort of swirl design. Even though he looked like a little rocker, he was wearing these big geeky glasses that instantly drew me in for some reason. Yet the thing that really popped out at me was he t-shirt that was a couple of sizes too big for him. It wasn't the size that caught my eye though, it was the fact that it was one of our first generation band shirts and this kid could not have been old enough to ever get one in person. Janey had designed and hand-painted those shirts back when she was still in high school; she had made maybe only 30 and there were probably only a few of those left in existence today.

_Where in the hell did he get that shirt? I don't even have one of those. Internet auction site maybe? It still looks like new, who would have gotten one of those shirts back then and kept it this long?_

"Hey kid, where did you get that shirt? It's like, really old," Jesse asked as we approached him, apparently recognizing the shirt too. He smiled up at us with this quirky little smirk as the other fans were talked to one-by-one by our legal guy and escorted out from the back room we were in.

"Actually, it's my mom's shirt. I begged to wear it for the concert and she finally caved when I threatened to call my grandma and ask her to come visit us for a week. It put the fear of god into her."

_Wow, sneaky little kid._

"Cool, so your mom is an old fan then? That shirt is from the old days before we hit it big, not many people ever got one," Max added.

The kid suddenly looked a little uncomfortable and began looking anywhere but at our faces.

"Ummm, I don't know. She has a lot of your stuff so I guess she's a fan, but she makes fun of you guys. A lot," he shrugged apologetically as he said that last part, making all of us chuckle a little.

"Where is she little dude? You can't be here all on your own," Nick, the dad of the group asked, "How old are you? You gotta name?"

"I'm Hunter, I'm six, my birthday was last month, and I like long walks on the beach. With girls, FYI, so thanks for the interrogation," he laughed, "my mom's here, somewhere I guess, but once we got inside the stadium I lost her so that I could get closer to the stage. She doesn't like crowds but there's no way I was going to not get as close as I could, you know?"

"Aren't you afraid that she's worried about you? Want us to help you find her?" I asked as I crouched down to be eye-level with him.

"Naw she could probably use the break, I've been told that I'm a hell-raiser. I already told that security guard over there that I got separated from her, so he's looking for her but my money's betting that she takes off to teach me not to run off on her like that. She's cool."

_I wish I had had my shit as together as he does now. He talks like a little adult; there is just no way he's only 6 years old. I swear to God something about him is familiar to me, it feels like I met this little guy before but I know I've never seen him in my life. But damn this kid is cool, quite possibly one of the coolest kids I've ever met … wait … holy crap. The glasses? The smirk? The way-too-grown-up vocab? The cutting sarcasm? _

"Hey Hunter, just out of curiosity, what's your last name?"

Hunter started to reply but was suddenly cut off from a monotone voice from behind me.

"His last name is Morgendorffer, and if he wants to live long enough to ever use it again he had better give me a good answer for why he ditched me as soon as we got here."

Hunter rolled his eyes and mumbled "Sorry Mom but you know me; I just got caught up with a swell of emotions and had to go cry about it. It's not like I would EVER ditch my mother. At a rock concert. On purpose."

I wasn't listening. I had frozen the second I heard that voice, not even needing the name drop to recognize exactly who was behind me. My heart raced, and suddenly images from my past came rushing back to me of the one woman I was sure was at the root of my recent relationship problems since I had given her my heart and she had never given it back before we parted. And did I mention that she stomped all over it? Then the realization of the mom/son exchange in front of me slapped me in the face.

_Oh crap, crap, crap! What do I do? I haven't seen her in forever. She has a kid? Who's the bastard that knocked up MY Daria? Is she married? Why is she here? What do I do? Be excited? Be cool and collected? Act hurt that she hasn't had any contact with me for years? Hit on her? I better do something now though, I've been still and silent too long and it will start to look weird._

Pulling myself together, I finally stood up from my kneeling position in front of Hunter. Not sure of what to expect, I slowly turned around after deciding to try out the whole "cool and calm" thing and hope for the best. It was so stupid to hope, because once I saw her we locked eyes and it was like getting caught by a tractor beam. She smiled at me with that mysterious little smirk of hers and tried to look relaxed and in control, but it didn't reach her eyes. I stood there still frozen and silent and stared into those eyes trying to find something, anything, that I couldn't get from anyone else.

"Hey Daria," I heard Max say from behind me, obviously nervous about the long silence that was stretching out from the weirdness factor that was going on. I'm glad he broke it; I sure as hell didn't have the ability to speak yet.

The other guys jumped at the chance to fill the silent void in the room and greeted her as well. She smiled warmly and broke eye contact with me as she looked to the guys standing around the room. "Hey Max, Jesse, Nick. How are you guys doing? I mean, other than living the dream and keeping your eyes on the prize?"

They all laughed and mumbled something to her in response, but I couldn't pay attention to them now as I was willing myself to do something before I became a statue stuck like this forever. Finally, she turned her gaze back to mine, looking nervous again.

"Hi Trent. It's been a long time."

_She just spoke my name like we were in this room alone. How can she do that to me, make me feel that everyone disappears when we are together even though it's been so long since we've spoken. I don't care if it's weird, I need to feel her again just in case this is the last time I ever see her._

With that determination, I broke myself from my fog and hurriedly walked up to her. Wordlessly, I threw my arms around her tiny frame and pulled a surprised Daria to me in a giant hug. I lowered my face into her hair, and at first I was getting worried that she was pissed because I could feel her tense up but then I felt her whole body relax and let me pull her even closer. I nearly cried when I felt her wrap her arms around my back as she hugged me back.

After breathing in the smell of her hair, I actually managed to say something.

"Hey Daria."


	2. Chapter 2

**Question**

**December 10th, 2012, 10:10 P.M.**

_How surreal is this. Wasn't I just thinking about her the other day? About how much I suck at song writing without her? About how much I hated the way things ended between us? About how I can't seem to form any bond with any other woman that means something since her? About how much I missed her?_

Daria and I sat on a couch in the private green room, as far away from everyone else as possible. The guys had taken it upon themselves to keep Hunter away so we could talk, so they had him on the other side of the room and started showing him how to play their instruments. I was having a hard time reconciling the fact that I was sitting in the room with my ex … the proverbial 'one that got away', and her kid even though I could definitely see the resemblance now. It was kind of awkward to get a conversation going.

"So …"

"A needle pulling thread?"

I laughed my little nervous cough/laugh at that. Haven't done that in years; I've only ever done it around her and I have no idea why.

"Only you would think of something as sick and twisted as to try and distract me right now with 'The Sound of Music'."

"I'm only trying to lighten the mood. You're acting like you did way back when you wrote that jingle and tried to hide it from me and Jane."

_Wow, she remembers that. I had hoped to leave that in my past. Wait, damnit she's trying to distract me again! In a matter of two sentences she has me completely off the matter at hand. I'm not going to let her talk her way out of this conversation._

"Daria. I've missed you, and apparently I've missed out on so much in your life," I said as I gestured towards the back of the private lounge where Max was showing Hunter his drum set and he was grilling the guys about something. Every now and then he glanced over at Daria and me with a look of confusion and awe in his eyes.

"Come on Trent, I know Jane keeps you up to date. Plus you knew I had a kid, we talked about it the last time we saw each other."

_Oh yeah, she did mention having a son when I saw her three years ago at Janey's wedding. I guess I never really asked her about it because I was so high back then but I apparently had the wrong impression that it was a baby, not a kid. I just didn't want to hear about her moving on, that's why that was the last time I saw or spoke to her. I guess I didn't really keep in touch with her before that either, but once I heard about that it was like the last nail in the coffin for me. I couldn't handle any more info than that right then when I was still caught up in the drugs and stuff. I remember going on a month-long bender that nearly killed me right after that day …_

"Yeah, but I never really realized you ACTUALLY had a kid until I saw him right now calling you 'mom'."

"So all this time you thought I was pretending to have procreated?"

"No, more like I was in denial I think. I've just never seen you as the mom type."

"Hey I don't blame you; I was in denial myself for a while there. Up until I got him on baby food I called him 'mommy's little parasite'."

"It's just, wow, you know?" I phased out, trying to keep my irrational feelings in check to make sure I didn't say something that would royally piss her off. "I mean, I didn't think you even wanted kids."

"Well, it was either get a kid or a bunch of cats. That or else the whole talking to myself thing would become scary. This option only had a few years of dealing with diapers whereas with a cat I would always have a litter box to change."

That got me laughing again, and I sat there afterwards in an awkward pause trying to figure out what to ask her next.

_Is it too soon to ask who the father is? That's kinda personal I guess, but we used to be so close. I just need to know who she let get even that close, or rather closer than me, that she felt she could have a kid with him. Do I even want to know the answer? Maybe I should dance around it a little longer._

"How is work? I haven't seen any books gracing the shelves with you as the author."

"Wow, apparently Jane hasn't been keeping you in the loop when it comes to me. Maybe that's my fault, we don't talk very often," she muttered.

"Yeah, Janey and I don't see each other as much as we used to either. Ever since she left the band so we could get a stronger industry manager and then when she got hitched it's been harder and harder to get together. Plus it doesn't help that I haven't even seen my own house for months; trying to squeeze every last drop of that 15 minutes of fame ya know?"

She smiled weakly at that before gazing over towards her kid. She also started fidgeting with the fabric of her shirt and tapping her foot at the same time, both obviously nervous movements that I'd never seen her do before. She's just always been so … zen. So Daria. It was a startling change.

"I'm not a writer anymore Trent. I don't even get the chance now to do it for fun."

"Sorry to hear that … no one ever had a way with words like you did. Plus I know how much you loved it. You ever think of starting it up again?"

"Sometimes, yeah. I'll tell you this, if I ever start writing again I want to interview Jane about that year-long trip to China she took and how she met Xiang. She and X have such an interesting story about how they fell in love that it sounds like a piece of fiction."

When Jane stepped aside as our manager shortly before our second album blew up, she didn't know what to do with herself. She didn't want to go back to school to just study art, so I offered her the funds to go anywhere she wanted to study anything she pleased. After a dart toss at the map she decided to go to Beijing to meet and study with local artists and crafts people. Xiang was an up-and-coming jewelry designer. His modern and avant garde pieces caught the attention of China's blossoming middle and upper classes, but his heart was in researching ancient Chinese historical jewelry and reinterpreting the designs in modern creations. When Janey brought home this skinny Chinese guy with bright blue hair and more piercings in his face than the whole band put together I wasn't sure about it, but after seeing the way he treated my sister and made her happy I was glad that she had found someone special. Even if she now split her years half and half between the US and China.

_How two people can fall in love through an interpreter, I'll never know. _

"So what do you do then, if you aren't writing?"

She looked like she didn't want to answer me for a moment and I had a sudden fear that maybe, just maybe, she had returned to doing something a bit … exotic …to get the cash to take care of her kid. She still had the body for it I could see, maybe even more so now actually than she did back when she was in college. I guessed that childbirth could be kind to some lucky women. I raised my eyebrow at her, waiting for her response, and after seeing her cheeks flush for a moment I remembered just what that used to do to her.

_Wow, that still has an effect on her. After all this time she still blushes at me, and damn me if it still isn't as cute as hell._

"I'm a lowly lab technician for the CDC here in San Francisco."

"Wow, why did you move out here? Why didn't you become a doctor or a professor like you wanted?"

She looked down for a while, a sad smile spreading on her face, before looking over at her kid.

"With Hunter in my life it was … difficult to pursue any education beyond my bachelors and I had to pick something practical as a career. The CDC had child care, moving allowances, and still kept me in line with researching and science. The lab here in San Fran was just the place they had a position they needed to fill that I was qualified for, so I took it."

"Are you happy?"

She let a quick, harsh laugh escape her before staring at me with a disbelieving look on her face.

"Trent, do you remember who you are talking to? Have I ever really been just happy in your memories?"

"Well," I paused, feeling a little hurt at her words, "I sorta remember a good year and a half of your life where you were smiling a lot. I always thought that, for the most part, you were happy with me. Weren't you?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I was happy then," she said quietly with an apologetic look on her face, "and I'm happy now with Hunter. He's a great kid; thank god he's turned out more like me than like normal kids. I couldn't stand children even when I was a child. But what about you? How are things going for you and the guys, other than the obvious?"

"Well our second album sold really well, and we've been touring almost nonstop ever since. I haven't seen my home in L.A. in months actually, and that last time I was there was only for a few weeks. The last two albums we released haven't done as well though; this fourth one is bombing actually, so we'll probably take some time off to decompress before working on the next one."

"We got it the day it came out. Hunter is a truly loyal fan so he loved it regardless but honestly? I was far from impressed."

She looked away from me as she basically told me this last album was crap. I knew her well enough to know that she was trying hard to not be harsh about it, but with what she had just said plus the fact that she refused to let me see her eyes when she said it proved to me that I was the one she wasn't impressed with. It wasn't the band that sucked; I had let her down by reverting to my horrible song writing without her influence. I decided to tell her that I agreed with her silent judgment.

"I think that's because we didn't have you to help out with the lyrics with the last two albums. They set me up with a professional song writer but he just kept pissing me off with phrases like 'radio-friendly', 'commercial beat', and 'sex appeal'. I really wish I could have gotten you to help us like you did in the old days for the first and second records, but you asked me not to call anymore after we wrapped up the second album and you didn't seem very receptive to the idea when I brought it up at the wedding."

"Sorry that I couldn't drop my work and parenting responsibilities to help you get even more rich and famous Trent," she said sarcastically. That ticked me off a little bit. She always used to blame others for so much crap in her life, but the fact was that if she made a little more effort a lot of that crap could have been avoided. Looks like she was still staying true to that character trait.

_She's trying to make that sound like a joke, but she just can't keep the knives out of her tone. Everything comes from a kernel of truth, but fuck, how was I supposed to know?_

"How come you didn't tell me about you having those 'parenting responsibilities' when you were helping me on that second album? I would have backed off. You didn't even tell Janey you were pregnant because I know she would have told me. I had to wait till a couple of years ago to find out, and even then I was under the impression that you had just had the kid. Now I find out Hunter is twice as old as I thought he was, so I only find out now that you had him to take care of while I called and bugged you for lyrics."

Daria continued to stare off into the distance, refusing to look at me. I took the chance to really look her over and saw that she had really become a more vibrant version of herself. If it was absence clouding my mind's eye or reality I couldn't tell, but even though she looked older she looked younger to me if that made any sense at all. She had always been too old for her age; perhaps having a kid had made her loosen up. Finally, after a long silence she answered me in a way that was much more serious than I had expected from her.

"Cowardice? I don't know why I didn't tell you then. I missed you, I was lonely, and I loved hearing your voice over the phone all those times and pretending that I was still important to you somehow. In all the hectic stuff going on with becoming a new mom; helping you with lyrics when you called felt like a part of the old me that hadn't changed I guess. I didn't want to face whatever reaction you were going to have right then about the fact that I had become a breeder, no matter what reaction you had, because it was going to change things. But things just got too crazy, in my life and in yours, and I couldn't help you anymore. That's when I asked you to stop calling."

_She missed me! Weird, right? That out of everything she just said, that's what I pick up on?_

"How could you think that I would ever not be happy for you? That you wouldn't be important to me? It's been a long time Daria but that year and a half we had together was special and haunts me to this day; especially since ending things wasn't my idea. I still think about you all the time."

"I get the feeling that you are not going to be thinking fondly of me anytime soon after tonight," she mumbled.

"What? That's not possible, I'm ecstatic that you came to see me tonight and that you brought Hunter."

"Trent I've been waiting for you to ask me one very particular question tonight, but once again your obliviousness is showing so I need to bring it up. I brought Hunter here tonight because I've waited too damn long to see you and explain this, and it wasn't fair to anyone."

"Daria, what are you talking about? One second we are reminiscing about old times and now you … you just aren't making any sense. What question am I supposed to be asking?"

"Trent, I know you can do the math. How long ago did we break up? How old is Hunter? So why haven't you asked me yet who his father is?"


	3. Chapter 3

****Nick's POV****

**Oh Shit- This is Surreal**

**December 10th, 2012, 10:10 P.M.**

"Man, this is surreal," Jesse whispered to me.

He and I were pretending to watch Max teach this kid how to play drums. Hunter. Daria's son. That's what we were pretending to do, but in reality he and I were both surreptitiously watching Trent and Daria talking on the far side of the room. Neither one of them looked very comfy; in fact they both looked like they would rather be chewing on a broken beer bottle at the moment.

_It was probably the hug. Daria never was a touchy-feely kinda girl, and being pulled into a bear-hug by an ex? An ex-boyfriend where the end wasn't exactly a happy thing, and she hadn't seen him in years? Yeah, that's not going to be awkward at all._

Jesse was right, this was surreal. What where the odds that of all the people who show up at our concerts, Daria's little boy would be one of the twenty or so that got hurt tonight? That she would pop back up in our lives the moment it seemed that we needed her the most? Our last two records, well, let's just say that they were a lot closer to the original Spiral stuff than any of us liked.

_We need her help … god I hope Trent is thinking with his big head right now and can test the waters in that topic …_

"She looks good though, right? I mean, we haven't seen her in forever, but apparently motherhood suits her," Max added in a stage whisper while Hunter was banging loudly on the skins.

He was right. Daria must have been one of those late-bloomers because it looked like she had gained maybe another couple of inches to her slight frame, or maybe I just remembered her as being much shorter. She wasn't wearing her glasses, and even though her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail it was still hard to see her eyes from here due to the attractive side-swept bangs hanging low over them. The lighting was dark so I couldn't tell if her hair was the same color, but even from across the room in the dim atmosphere I could see it shine. Her face looked a lot less dower than I had ever seen it, like a mental weight had been taken away from her younger self, but she also looked tired.

And extremely, extremely nervous.

"So, you guys know my mom? How?" Hunter suddenly asked.

"Yeah," Max laughed as he ruffled Hunter's hair, "you know anyone named Jane?"

"I think that's Auntie Yenta's real name, but I'm not sure."

_Auntie Yenta? Oh god, that suits Jane to a tee. If she knew about Daria's kid though, how come we didn't? Trent never mentioned it, but he doesn't seem overly surprised …_

"Hold on," Jesse said as he pulled out his cell phone and began flipping through pictures and found a recent one from the last time we saw Jane, "is this her?"

I took a long stare at the picture myself … something was bothering me about this whole situation and it wasn't because it's always awkward to be around an old friend you lost touch with.

"Yeah, that's Auntie Yenta. We don't see her very often, but she's cool. Doesn't talk to me like I'm a dumb kid. Why do you have her picture?"

"She's Trent's baby sister kid. She and your mom went to high school together; they were best friends and over time we grew on her too."

"Whoa, no way! Why didn't mom ever tell me this stuff, she knows how much I like your music!"

"She probably didn't want to brag," I blurted out.

_Uh-oh. Maybe he didn't catch that._

"Brag? About being friends with a little sister of the band? Why would she brag about that?"

"She was more than just friends with the little sis dude. Your mom was, like, a part of the band ya know? She and Trent …," I cut Jesse off with a quick elbow to the gut, "ow! Oh, uh, your mom and Trent wrote songs together for Spiral. We all spent a lot of time together a long time ago."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Max smiled down at him, "she was just like one of the guys in the band for us. Except that she didn't play an instrument. Or get on stage with us. Or sing. Other than that she was a big part of Spiral for a couple of years. We probably wouldn't be here without her."

The look of shock and admiration was comical on this little boy, as his eyes and mouth grew wide open and he chanced a look at his mom and Trent on the other side of the room.

"No way. I knew my mom was cooler than other moms but … wow. I don't even have words … and I know a lot of big ones. She never told me."

"Bet you'll be a lot more popular at school once this info gets out, huh Hunter. You gonna show up to school on Monday, tell everyone, shoot up on the cool factor and gain like fifty new friends?" laughed Jesse.

"Are you kidding?," Hunter said disbelievingly before pointing to his head, "with hair like this, do you really think I need help being cool? I was born with it man. Besides, being popular doesn't equal true friends. I'd rather stick to my little group I really like then have the whole school pretending to like me for something I have no control over."

"Wow, this is defiantly Daria's son you guys. Too smart for his age, cool being himself, and rocking those glasses! Is your dad here too, kid? I'd love to meet the guy that finally roped in our little Daria's heart," Max winked up at us from his crouching position behind Hunter.

The kid just shrugged, but I could see a veil of stoicism drop down over his features, just like it used to do with his mother.

"I never met my dad."

"Wow, sorry man."

Right before things could get too weird with the way the conversation turned, we all noticed that Trent shot out of the room like a bat outta hell. Daria threw us all a look, and then looked pointedly at Hunter for a moment before subtly motioning with her hand to stay put before rushing out to follow Trent.

_Uh-oh, what the hell is going on?_

I turned, about to disobey Daria's silent direction to not follow them by going out to make sure everything was all right, and saw the guys casting worried glances at each other before looking intently at Hunter. Suddenly, it felt like this nagging itch in the back of my head exploded.

"Max, get someone to turn on the house lights. It's too dark in here and I can't see anything. Jesse, pull up a picture of Jane again for me," I asked as I held out my hand towards him. He flipped through his menus for a while before stopping and studying the picture before him, just as the normal lights brightened up the room.

"Whoa … man … no way …" Jesse said as he looked dazed and confused, well, more dazed and confused than usual while handing me the phone. I studied the picture Jesse pulled up of Jane, Trent and Max from a few months back, and then looked up at Hunter who was obviously pretending to focus on the drums and not listen in on us.

The thing that had hit me before, when Trent and Daria left the room in a suspiciously upset hurry, was that while this kid was really similar to Daria in personality … he didn't look like her. At all. Yeah, he had the glasses and ok, in this light you could tell that he was really pale like her, but that was it. His face, under the layer of baby fat that all kids have, was sharp. You could already see that he would have the kind of cheekbones girls would write sappy poems about in high school where as Daria's face was softer and rounder. His eyebrows didn't have the perma-cynicism arch like hers always had; they were more angular and thicker. The hair, the chin, the lips (even though he did have that little smirk that was always a permanent fixture on his mom), none of them matched up with Daria.

But it was the eyes that popped out the most, once you looked past his glasses to check them out. Hunter's eyelids seemed to be in a permanent state of being at half mast, giving him an effortlessly relaxed look. And the color?

_The brightest sky blue I'd ever seen in a pair of eyes … except with Jane._

"Oh shit."


	4. Chapter 4

****Back to Trent's POV****

**Oh Shit- I Hate Math**

**December 10th, 2012, 10:56 P.M.**

_Oh shit._

_Whoa, is she trying to tell me … she can't be serious … this has to be a sick joke on her part. No way, no fucking way would even she be so evil as to keep something like this from me for a so long …_

I got up as calmly as I could and walked out of the lounge, while motioning curtly for Daria to follow me. On auto pilot I walked over to the tour bus, completely shut off from all of the people still hanging out in the halls and the parking lot. Throwing open the door I jumped in, checked that there was no one else in the bus, and then slammed the door behind Daria once she got inside.

_Do the math, do the math, god how can she stand there looking so calm? Ok, get a hold of yourself. Hunter is six. But we broke up more than six years ago, right? Fuck … I hate math. I don't know; I don't keep a fucking calendar with shit like "ate pancakes this morning, had my heart broken today, went to the park afterwards" in it!_

"Daria, tell me what's going on here. Spell it out for me, because if you're hinting at what I think you're hinting at I'm going to be pissed."

"What do you think I'm talking about?" she said with a bitter tone in her voice, like she couldn't believe I hadn't gotten her riddle yet.

"Hunter. Way I see it, there are too options with this little game. One: you are trying to tell me that you got over me pretty damn quick after we stopped seeing each other, which would hurt like hell … or maybe worse. Maybe you got over me before the breakup? Two: you are trying to tell me that he is … mine … and you neglected to mention that little fact for six fucking years! Neither option looks good right now so please, tell me what's going on. We've only spent half an hour together and I'm already sick of the games."

A sad, almost pitying, look came across her face as I waited to hear whatever words that were going to come out of her mouth and destroy my illusion of her one way or another.

_Please Daria, tell me I'm wrong. Tell me I'm crazy to think either thought._

"He's yours, Trent."

I suddenly found my foot stuck in the splintered cabinet door in the kitchenette.

_Huh. That should hurt. How did my foot get through there? I thought those panels were supposed to be oak? Damn tour bus company said that they were oak when they sold this thing to us …_

Just as suddenly as I found my foot through a piece of furniture, I found myself being pushed down onto one of the couches. Daria was suddenly hovering over my leg, ripping the torn denim of my jeans up to the knee with an open first aid kit by her side, and tending to some nasty looking gashes and cuts on my ankle and calf. How the hell she found a first aid kit in the mess that was our shared living space when I didn't even know it was on the bus amazed me.

_I must be in shock. That's what this must be. My brain trying to protect itself from something. What was it? Oh yeah, right. Daria's trying to tell me that Hunter is my kid. Thank you brain for the protection, but I really need to be lucid enough right now to get some god damn answers._

"What … Daria … what did you say?" I asked in a daze.

"Forget about that right now Trent, I need to stop this bleeding; I should probably go grab one of those EMTs from backstage, this looks bad."

The second her fingers finished tying up a tight bind on the last wound, she tried to turn around to go get help. With a speed that amazed me I snapped my hand out and grabbed her wrist, refusing to let her go. She struggled a bit to free herself from my grip and in the back of my mind I tried to remember not to hurt her, but all I wanted to do was shake her until she admitted to lying moments before.

"Trent," her steady voice warned as she stared at my hand like she was going to break it if I didn't let go, "I understand that you are mad, and probably in shock, but if you don't get your hand off me right now you're not getting it back. You understand?"

"Don't go yet. I don't need the paramedics."

She looked around slowly; my fingers still latched onto her wrist, before turning her calculating gaze on me and just looked down at me. Staring at me with those deep brown eyes, eyes that I used to lose myself in for hours, as she decided how to respond. Eyes that always held such conviction and principal in them that I never thought she could do any wrong as long as she stayed true to herself. Apparently, I was so fucking wrong it hurt.

"Fine, that drummer from Def Leopard managed to play with only one arm, so I guess you can keep going with only one leg. Just don't say I didn't try to help."

I let go of her hand gently before mumbling an apology, eyeing the bottle of Jack Daniel's on the counter across from my seat. She spotted my gaze and turned to pick up the bottle.

"You need a shot of liquid pain reliever? Or is it for courage?"

"I have never before in my life needed a drink like I need one right now, but I can't," I said on edge as I shook the drink-lust from my eyes, "been sober for a year. Never had an issue with alcohol, but when I drink I'm more likely to … forget that I need to stay away from anything harder."

"Oh," Daria murmured as she carefully set the offending bottle back on the counter and slowly lifted her eyes back to mine.

"So … you wanna run that last bit before the property damage by me again? Because I'm pretty sure that I never got a 'congrats daddy!' postcard six years ago."

"You are Hunter's biological father Trent," she tried to say with a calm and level voice.

"No see, I can't be, because he's six and … fuck me, I don't remember the exact time frame we broke up or his birthday or anything!"

"His birthday is in November. We conceived him in February 2006. Does that give you a better idea of the time frame?"

_2006 … February 2006 … that was important … work you stupid drug-damaged lump I call my brain … work!_

Then it hit me. In that year, in the middle of March, is when the band finally joined up with a professional music festival and began touring. We had been signed to a small independent label the year before and put out an album, thanks in large part to Daria and Janey's influence and pushing. It was Daria's senior year in college and we had been together as a couple ever since that night in the strip club, but we had only moved into an apartment together maybe 9 months before the guys and I went out on the road.

_I remember how hard it was to get her to agree to change up her life to live together, even though I was the one making all the big changes to be with her in Boston. But god, it was so good while it lasted. I got to see the side of her that even Janey didn't know was there. Not to mention having the most amazing sex nearly every chance we got. Then, when we knew we would be apart for six months, we double-timed it. Almost as if we could stockpile our "special" time together before the drought the tour would bring us._

"We were careful though, weren't we? How can he even be here? Even if you did get pregnant, I guess I always assumed …" I trailed off as I realized exactly where my uncomfortable ramblings were leading.

"Assumed what, Trent?" she asked in a tone that told me I needed to tread VERY carefully.

"Well first off, I guess assumed you would fucking tell me about it! Is that so unreasonable? I don't know," I deflated a bit after the outburst, "I guess I'm surprised you would go through with it more than anything. I thought you didn't want kids. You barely wanted to think about a future that included living with me, let alone multiplying with me. Yet there you were; alone, pregnant, still in college, but you decided to keep the baby? And not tell me about it?"

Daria took a deep breath before sitting down on the couch next to me, staring at her hands in her lap for a while.

"You know that I never had a problem with the idea of abortion Trent. I always thought, no … I knew … that I would never be stupid enough to get pregnant accidentally. I was up on that high and mighty ego-trip that I was too good for this to happen to me. Even if it did happen, I was so sure that I would have no problem terminating the pregnancy … but we did everything right, we were careful, we didn't even have one slip-up and I still got pregnant. I remember how frustrated you would get every time we had to slow down and put the condom on," she chuckled quietly to herself as her eyes told me she was lost in the past.

"As I learned at the doctor's office when the results were confirmed and I told them they had mixed up the tests, condoms are great but not perfect. Even when used exactly the right way there's still a chance of pregnancy … and most people don't use them perfectly and then the statistics jump. I thought for a long time about my options but …"

"But you kept him, obviously. Why?"

"I went to the clinic. I went every day for a month. I would get out of class, head straight there, and sit in the waiting room till they closed and kicked me out. The people who worked there noticed my daily vigils and had a councilor talk with me, but I didn't know what to say. I was on the verge of finally starting my life, being free to do absolutely anything … and then I was smacked in the face with this. Not to mention the unpleasantness of our recent break-up. I had no moral opposition to terminating the pregnancy and I had everything to lose, but I couldn't do it. All I could think about was how happy I was, how happy we were, when we made this life and how even though I no longer had you it didn't mean that I stopped loving you. Stopped wanting to feel that way. I just wanted a piece of that I guess …," she trailed off.

We sat there for a while, both of us soaking in her little speech. I was still trying to come to terms with the idea of being somebody's father, but it really wasn't sinking in yet. When it finally got to the point that it felt like if one of us didn't speak then we would be stuck like this forever, I tried to say something. Anything.

"I should hire your mom and sue Trojan or something. I feel a little violated by the condom manufacturers."

"I wouldn't risk getting in touch with my mom if I were you. It took a lot of effort on my part to get her to not come after you the second she found out I was pregnant; she still holds a vendetta against you."

We sat there in silence for a bit, letting her soft laughter over her unspoken memories of her mother's reaction peter out. The thought of exactly what plans Helen had by this point concocted to do to me caused me to cringe.

_I really am surprised Daria was able to keep her mom from coming after me actually. The first thing Helen told me when we said we were moving in together all those years ago was "You get her pregnant before she graduates college and you can say goodbye to the possibility of ever having children again." I guess I should be grateful for that small kindness of not having to face an angry mother-bear of a lawyer but …_

"I wouldn't go through with it, like I said I only feel a little violated by them. You on the other hand? I feel a lot violated by you though."

"I know. I'm sorry, Trent."

"I can't believe this shit," I huffed and jumped up, ignoring the pain that screeched at me from my banged-up leg, and began pacing the bus.

"Sit down; you'll make the cuts worse," Daria ordered me with a worried look trained on my injuries.

"I can't! I need to get up and away from you before I do something stupid like hit you! Did you really think I deserved to not know about my own son? God Daria I'm so angry at you and all you can do is sit there and say 'sorry'?"

She sat there; silent, eyes lowered like she was a little kid taking her chastisement for something she had done wrong. I tried to speak calmly, to elicit a response from her, but I found myself getting louder and angrier with every word out of my mouth.

"Daria, I have a six-year old son that I didn't even know about before. How could you do this? I knew you didn't like people, that you delighted in the ironic misfortunes of others, but I never thought you would screw with my life like this on purpose!"

"Trent …," she tried to calm me down.

"Can you just tell me why?" I shouted.

"Hanlon's Razor," she stated simply as if it was the obvious answer that I wasn't seeing.

"What?"

"It's a saying … well, technically it's an eponymous adage …"

"For fuck's sake … we both know that I may have flashes of intelligence here and there, but there is no way I'm smart enough to know what the hell you just said."

"Basically … it means that you shouldn't attribute the actions of others to malice when they are obviously caused by stupidity," she took a deep breath as if she was having a really hard time getting the next words out, "This all snowballed from me being a stubborn, stupid ass … and I'm trying to fix it now."

_Well at least she isn't try to blame this on somebody else._

"Can you tell me why? Why am I just now finding out about this," I asked as I felt myself deflate and sat back down next to her on the couch, "You own me that; at the very least you owe me that."


	5. Chapter 5

_***A/N***: This is sort of like a flashback, but I want you all to see what my Daria was going through when she went through it … not listen to her as she is explaining it to Trent. Pretend that everything you are reading here is something she is trying to explain to him, she is telling him how this all happened, but we are not seeing their conversation. Time travel is fun! Trust me, I'm a Doctor!_

_Oh and for the most recent anonymous reviewer who threatened to kill me if I didn't update: I was already planning on updating today and this is not in any way being posted because of what you wrote. I'm going to take that as a joke. It made me laugh, and I don't take it seriously. But please understand that this is not my only story that I am working on, and it is not the priority story either. I also shockingly have a life, thought I do try to work on all my stories at least for five minutes at a time each day. I've tried to be fair and update first one story, then the other so technically I am updating something at least once a month. If I worked any faster to pump it out, everything I'd write would be utter crap. Be happy I take the time that I do.  
><em>

****Daria POV****

**Oh Shit- Peachy**

**February 4****th****, 2006**

_I'm tangled up in so many things right now. Work. School. Trent's plans for the tour. The worries of being apart. Our plans for me to join up with him on Spring break and after graduation. But most immediately? Tangled up in sheets. And each other. There's something really … satisfying … about having your guy collapsing on you in the afterglow, both of you so exhausted all you can do is throw you faces into each other's neck, wrap your arms around each other, and not even bother to … um … disconnect._

"I want you to come with me Daria."

"Didn't I just do that a few seconds ago? Give a girl some rest …" I panted, trying to get my breathing back to normal after our workout, looking down at his face resting on my chest.

"Ha ha very funny."

"Well, you know me. I try my hardest to give everyone a good chuckle."

"I'm serious. We just moved in together!"

"It's been more than a year since we moved into together Mr. Keen Observation," I laughed with the most light-hearted sound I had ever heard in my own voice.

"Well it feels like only a few months ago," he actually pouted in an attempt to make me fall for his cute bullshit, "and I don't want to be separated from you again so soon. Especially since this will be for weeks at a time, no regular weekend visits or anything."

"Trent, you know I can't. I'm in the final stretch; I can see the light at the end of the tunnel ... insert another lame analogy here for the end is near. I just have to finish this semester and I'm done."

"So? College will always be here. Take a mini-break to be irresponsible with me. Come back when summer is over and finish up in the fall. You know that the second they hand you that diploma you're just going to start working someplace prestigious that will shove a big stick up your ass."

"Hey!"

"Oh, you're right," he sniggered at me, "I'm sorry. They'll have to remove the smaller one you already have first."

"Damn straight," I chuckled as I ruffled his hair, "Actually, I'm thinking of getting my master's degree. I just don't know in what. I envy you and Jane you know. You've always known what you wanted to be. I'm finally a real adult, but I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up."

"So then come with us on the tour. Take a break and use the time to figure it out," he mumbled as he kissed his way down my stomach.

"Yes because being cooped up in a tour bus without air conditioning with a bunch of unwashed musicians and your sister … AGAIN … is really conducive to figuring out what one wants to do with their life."

"Is that just your fancy way of saying 'no'?"

"It's my fancy way of saying 'no thank you'. I was being polite. I could have been much meaner in my evaluation of that possible scenario."

"So all I'm hearing is that I'll have to wait until April to get you for a week, and then I won't see you again till June, because you can't let loose just this once?"

"That's about the sum of it, yeah," I smiled sadly down at him, hoping he would understand.

"So we're having one of those unmovable objects vs. irresistible force moments on this, huh?"

"That's not exactly the way that paradox was meant to be interpreted."

"Whatever, Miss Know-It-All," he faked a scowl as he turned his attention back to my skin and disappeared beneath the sheets.

It's a good thing he didn't ask me to leave school and join him right then, because I would have agreed to anything he asked me. I could just picture trying to explain that to my mother. Somehow, I don't think _'What can I say mom? The boy has a talented mouth_' would really go over well.

**March 18****th****, 2006**

"I MISS YOU! I CAN'T WAIT TWO MORE WEEKS TO SEE YOU FOR YOUR SPRING BREAK!"

"What?"

"DARIA, CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

"Above the chanting audience and the feedback from the performers on stage right now? Sure, clear as a bell."

"WHAT?"

"Trent, stop yelling and find somewhere away from the noise!"

"LISTEN, I CAN'T HEAR YOU AT ALL. I'LL CALL YOU AT THE NEXT STOP. I LOST MY CELL CHARGER BACK IN HOUSTON, JANEY'S GONNA PICK ME UP A NEW ONE WHEN THE FESTIVAL PULLS INTO PHOENIX IN TWO DAYS."

"Ok, I'll talk to you soon."

"I LOVE YOU!"

"I love you too!"

"WHAT?"

**March 20****th****, 2006**

I tried to focus on my textbook but it was hard with my phone sitting there, right in front of my face, not ringing.

_Laughing. It's laughing at me. Stupid phone._

"Damn it Trent, call me before I pass out!"

_He should have called by now._

Jane, who did take him up on his suggestion of leaving BFAC for a semester to tool around with them on the festival tour as their quote unquote "manager", was supposed to get him a new cell phone charger today. Mystik Spiral used to play early in the day, as the more un-known bands usually do, but as the tour went on word-of-mouth was spreading and the festival promoters moved the guy's start time to later and later in the day. Which is a good thing for the band, but still they should have been done hours ago.

It was also hard to focus on my school work because Spring Break was just around the corner, thankfully. I was exhausted; it was only nine o'clock and I could barely keep my eyes open.

_I've been like that for a couple of weeks actually, and now I'm starting to get achy all over. I hope I'm not getting sick, that's the last thing I need right now._

I waited another hour for Trent to call me before I gave up the ghost and crawled into our cold bed alone.

**April 10****th****, 2006**

"You've got the results mixed up doctor. I can't be pregnant," I stated calmly as I tried my best not to crush my tiny cell phone in my hand.

_Damn phone is laughing at me again apparently. I hate my phone._

"Let's just take a look here Miss Morgendorffer … you came in two days ago in regards to what you considered to be flu-like symptoms … body aches, fatigue, headaches, and mild nausea … but no respiratory issues … I'm looking over the blood and urine tests right now. You are not sick, the results are positive for pregnancy, and your symptoms are all normal signs of a pregnancy in the early portion of the first trimester. Have you been sexually active?"

"Yes, but never without protection. Every single time we used a condom. I still don't think … I've been feeling a little nauseous, but I've never actually thrown up! Isn't that mandatory for being knocked up?"

"Condoms are not infallible Miss Morgendorffer; there is still a 2% chance of pregnancy with perfect use. They even offer substantial protection when not used correctly, but the risk of pregnancy is greater. As for the nausea, early on vomiting is not common. Some women never vomit throughout the duration of their pregnancy."

A long, nervous silence followed on my part. I sat down, chewed my lip, and tried to think of anything that I could say that would make this doctor realize that they were horribly wrong. I think after 5 minutes of quiet she realized that.

"Look if you really certain that you are not pregnant, let's do the math. When was the first day of your last menstrual cycle?"

"My period started a little earlier that I expected it to in February, the 15th I believe. I skipped in March, but I just thought that was due to external influences."

"External influences?"

"Yes stress over school, work, my relationship, and the concern that I was starting to get sick at the worst possible time. I have missed my period before because of stress. I figured I was going through enough of it to explain that, not to mention that I just got back from traveling in inhumane conditions reserved only for prison inmates and struggling musicians. I never thought I could be …" I trailed off as a nagging acceptance started to wash over me.

"Your menstrual cycle in February, other than beginning sooner than your expected start date, was it unusual in any other way?"

"It was …," Ms. Barch's health classes were suddenly flashing before my eyes, they way I always assumed my life would when I found out eventually that I was dying, "… it was lighter than any other period I'd ever had. Barely lasted two days. Oh shit. It was implantation spotting, wasn't it?"

"It sounds likely. When was the first date of your cycle before the bleeding on February 15th?"

"Hang on," I asked as I flipped through my date book in a panic, "it was January 20th."

"Taking that into account along with the time frame of implantation spotting … looking over the calendar… my rough estimate is that the date of conception falls between February 2nd and February 11th."

"Yep, that sounds about right."

_Sounds right because Trent and I barely came up for air the last few weeks before he started the festival tour, which he and the guys left on the 13__th__ to meet up with. God damnit._

"You should make an appointment to come in for a full exam since you seem unsure about these results, and when we confirm them you need to discuss the next steps in caring for yourself. How does 1:30 PM sound tomorrow?"

"Peachy," I droned, lost in a haze of shock and disbelief.

"Alright Miss Morgendorffer, we will see you tomorrow. Have a nice day," her chipper voice, finally cut off, though it continued ringing in my ears long after.

'_Have a nice day.' My idea of a nice day is watching the world set itself on fire. Not unexpectedly finding out that I'm a host organism. How can I have a nice day now? How can I tell Trent? What am I going to do?_

"Damn it."

**May 9****th****, 2006**

"Honey, you've been coming here for a while now," said the receptionist at the window of the clinic.

_She must be bored, there's no one else around to talk to. No other reason to speak with me._

"Is that a problem?"

"No sweetie, you come here as often as you want. I only raise the issue because you never ask for help. You just come in, pull out your laptop, and occasionally stare at our informative materials. Day after day. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Unless you've got a book with all the answers in it, I don't think so."

"I see, well, I don't have all the answers, but sometimes it helps to talk to someone to figure them out on your own."

"You want me to tell you, a stranger who has been watching me close enough to know how often I come in here, about my problems? Don't I usually have to order a couple of rounds first before that offer is made barkeep?"

"Oh no, not me. We offer counseling at this facility, to help you make the best choices for you. An impartial ear with experience and education in this department can lay out all the options and help you pick the best ones, whatever your situation might be," she offered warmly.

_Well she's right about that, I don't know what to do. I'm almost a month shy of graduating, but my due date is in November so I'll be done by the time this thing is ready to come out. Thing? Baby? I don't even know what I want to call it. Parasite sounds right. It's draining me enough to count as one. Had to quit moonlighting as a stripper because I couldn't stay awake late enough to work. Not to mention working the pole made me want to throw up even more than usual. What about after graduation? Would I be able to handle, not to mention afford, graduate school with a baby?_

_And what about Trent? My boyfriend of roughly two years is on the road with his band, and surprisingly they are starting to really get a following. He is calling me less and less, busy and exhausted from traveling, but he still sounds like he cares when we do talk. He still asks for my help in writing their songs for the next album. He still says 'I love you'. If things keep building, they'll be on the road all the time and I'll basically be on my own with the kid. I doubt he'll really make a living large enough to support a family with the band, if he even wants us to have it. Would he even want it? Will he leave me? Is that why I'm too chicken-shit to tell him?_

_But … it's a part of me. A part of Trent. I don't have issues with abortion or sentimentality, and this is the very last thing I need right now in my life. So why the hell haven't I gone through with this yet? Maybe I do need to talk to someone, the clock is running out on how long terminating this pregnancy is an option._

"Yeah, ok, can I talk to someone please?"

_I need to figure this out for myself. I still need to tell Trent, get his opinion on the subject, but I need to decide this for myself first. No matter what happens, I need to choose what's right for me._

_Crap. I wonder if telling my mom would make her head explode. That might brighten my day._

**May 31****st****, 2006**

"If I hear one more gaggle of future MENSA candidates walking by talking about how 'fucking hot' the guys in Mystik Spiral are, I'm not going to be able to control my morning sickness. I'll aim for them while I'm at it. Projectile vomiting is always a turn-off, right?"

"Hey, aren't you here to see those guys?" asked the very confused looking back-stage grunt who was escorting me towards the musician's area.

"That's what it says on my backstage pass, doesn't it?"

"So, you aren't a groupie then?"

"Nope, I'm an international assassin. They must be stopped."

"But didn't you just say something about morning sickness? I may be a little out of it, but ... um, I don't think assassins are supposed to be, like, pregnant or shit. Or getting morning sickness at nine o'clock at night," he mused without breaking his stride.

_Real eloquent one we've got here. He's going places with that vocabulary._

"Morning sickness is what some god-damn liar called it, it happens at any time of the day. And this band is my last job before I can retire to a nice little cabin in Montana with my bastard baby and a dream of living straight."

"Are you shitting me? You don't even look pregnant."

I could understand why he didn't believe me. He was right I didn't look pregnant; I hadn't gained much weight yet but I expected that would come in the second trimester. The instant I found out, well after I got over the shock anyway, I tried to be healthier even though I wasn't sure what I was going to do. No more drinks or cigarettes, even though I already used them sparingly, and I tried to eat better.

_Which is hard since pizza really would have improved this situation._

"You caught me officer. I'm not an assassin. I'm not nauseous. I'm not pregnant. And I think Mystik Spiral is the dreamiest group of boys to ever pick up an instrument. Happy now?"

"Whatever. That's their bus over there. The crappy looking one with the black trash bag being used as a window near the back. Their label should get them a better ride, they're getting big enough to start asking for shit now," he muttered as he pointed out my destination and walked away.

I stood there for a minute, trying to gather my courage again. I had just spent the last few weeks working myself to the bone, finishing all my term projects and requesting to take my finals early. I didn't want to tell Trent and then not be with him for another month once he knew, so I completed everything early and came to surprise him. I missed him.

_It might just be the hormones talking, but I think he'll be ok with this. With my decision to keep the baby._ _Ok, baby still sounds weird. Think I'll stick with parasite. It's more affectionate._

Just as I was getting ready to screw my courage to the sticking place, I saw someone else approaching the bus. Actually, two someones. One tall, lanky guy carrying a girl bridal-style. The other a really scantily clad girl. A really, really, really inebriated scantily clad girl. Even from a distance at night, I could recognize that it was Trent carrying this little slut-bomb. I froze, unable to speak or in general operate as a humanoid.

_Trent? What the hell?_

"Trenty? I'm SSSSSSSSSOOOOOOOOOO wasted right now," I heard her laugh as she tossed her arms around his neck and gave him an overly-affectionate kiss on the cheek.

"God damnit Jessica, you know better than this. Now you're going to be a pain in the ass for the rest of the night," he stated sharply, but at the same time he tenderly pushed her dyed-pink bangs back from her face.

"I wanna go back to the party … there were a lot of cute guys there … and alotta cute girls too. No one cuter than you though Trenty," she managed to say breathily before blacking out in his arms.

Trent just chuckled to himself before a mighty feat of juggling the girl and trying to open the door to the bus.

"Fucking groupies man. Fucking groupies," I heard him murmur to himself before he managed to close the door.

_Trenty? Jessica? Groupies? TRENTY?_

All I could do was stand there in shock as the realization hit me.

"He's cheating on me," I whispered to myself right before the rage boiled up and took me over.


End file.
